Escaping His Fate
by peppymint
Summary: After his godfather's death, Harry comes to the conclusion that things need to change. xover with stargate. manipulative Dumbles
1. Getting Serious

_I do not own Harry Potter or Stargate_

_Please don't sue_

_This is my first multi-chapter crossover so please be gentle_

_I probably should have started with something easier_

_but the idea wouldn't leave me alone_

**Part One**

_Scene One_

Harry felt numb. There was no other way to describe it. Sirius was dead; his godfather was dead. That, combined with the belated revelation of the prophecy, had pushed the teen into a state of shock. He needed to think. He needed to be alone.

It wasn't a huge surprise to find himself in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. The Chamber of Secrets was the one place in all the world that no one could follow him, except Voldemort of course. Fortunately, the dark lord was many miles away.

A pair of green eyes locked onto the snake inscribed on the tap, allowing the optical illusion to work its own brand of magic. _"Open," _he hissed. Harry dropped into the revealed passageway without so much as glancing over his shoulder. It closed behind him.

The teen's stride was calm and unhurried as he walked down the tunnel. A single wave of his wand was all it took to repair the damage that idiot Lockhart had caused a mere three years before. Funny, it seemed so much longer than that. So much had happened since then.

When Harry entered the main chamber he received a pleasant surprise. The basilisk's corpse was still there of course. Where else would it be? But, it didn't smell. Evidently the species was a hardy one, even in death. For the time being the wizard decided to let the giant snake be.

The chamber was cold, and a bit damp. Harry didn't care though. He had endured much worse conditions. For the moment, all that mattered was that it was quiet. His mind replayed the conversation that had just taken place in the Headmaster's office. A childhood, what a laugh. The teen wasn't certain if he had even been a child, not once the Dursleys got a hold of him. Children were supposed to be happy and carefree, not contemplating where the next threat would come from.

Harry let his head drop into his hands. "Fool," he accused himself. The dark haired teen couldn't believe he had been so stupid. He really should have known better. Growing up with his oh so loving relatives he had lived by certain rules. One, trust no one but yourself. Two, if you fall down you better pick your own self back up because no one will help you. The list progressed from there. Even then, Harry had been a survivor.

Then Hagrid had come. The half-giant had been so, so kind. No one had ever looked at Harry that way before, like he mattered. The boy he had been had wanted so badly to fit in. To be somewhere he fit in. So, he had conformed to their expectations of him, or rather to their expectations of the boy-who-lived.

"I should have known there was a catch," Harry whispered to himself. As the slender figure shifted his attention was drawn to the time turner that had fallen into his robes at the Department of Mysteries. Originally, the teen had intended to return it to Dumbledore. With everything that had happened, it was no surprise the device had been forgotten. Now though, his gaze settled on the time turner, he would keep it. It could be very useful someday. Carefully he set the small item aside.

For too long Harry had played the perfect gryffindor, burying his other attributes underneath the golden boys mask. No more. If he wanted to live, or even survive, the teen knew he needed to give his slytherin side free reign.

It had been naive to think the Headmaster would deal with Voldemort. Harry had dealt with each situation as it came, never thinking of the future. Title or no, he was just a kid. Surly they didn't expect him to defeat the dark lord. The first time had been a fluke. Saving the world wasn't his responsibility. After all, the teen thought mockingly to himself. They can't possibly expect me to defeat the most powerful dark lord of the century. Obviously they did.

To Dumbledore Harry was nothing more than a tool, a weapon. The teen didn't want to know what would become of the tool when it was no longer useful. He needed to start planning for the future. Not just for the dark lord, but for himself as well.

The boy-who-lived would have no place in the wizarding world if he managed to outlive Voldemort. Harry saw that clearly. They had turned on him before, for far more trivial reasons. He still remembered the parseltongue fiasco. If he had known how the wizarding world viewed snakes he would have let the serpent bite his fool of a classmate. It wouldn't have killed the other boy, probably.

Oh well, there was no use dwelling on the past. That wouldn't change it, nor would it bring Sirius back. Honestly, Harry mourned more for the loss of possibilities than the man himself. The older man had represented freedom, protection from the Dursleys. Yes Sirius was, had been his godfather, but the teen hadn't known him, not really. They hadn't had time for that.

The young wizard didn't delude himself by thinking he could solve all his problems at once. There was no book titled _How to Become Invincible_. He would have to take things one step at a time. Harry cursed the Headmaster as he thought. If he had only known he could have started preparing years ago.

For now, the teen would content himself with two things. The first would be reading material to study over the summer break. Useful information, not a text on how to turn a tortoise into a teapot. When would he need to know that anyway? It would be difficult to do without attracting attention from his well-meaning associates, but not impossible.

The second would be both easier and harder, a muggle education. He would need it once Voldemort was gone. Harry refused to think his death at the hand of the other was inevitable. He would fight, and he would win. A smirk flashed across the teen's features. It would probably be the only nice thing Aunt Petunia would ever do for him. It would thrill the horse-faced woman to know he was turning away from his freakish ways. Ensuring the Dursleys' silence on the matter would not be difficult. If he was lucky they would allow him to use Dudley's old computer to take on-line classes. That would attract far less attention than daily trips to the library.

Harry knew it wouldn't be easy. He had years of make-up work to do. If anyone had ever asked the teen's opinion, he would have said that the exclusion of muggle subjects at Hogwarts was stupid. Shock of shocks, no one ever had. Now that he thought about it, no one had ever asked his opinion on a serious matter period. They all just assumed.

The teen's gaze wandered back to the time turner. Yes, the device would be incredibly useful, and unlike Hermione he would remember to account for extra sleep. For such a brilliant girl she could be very stupid at times.

As Harry glanced down at his watch he was shocked to see how much time had passed. If he didn't get back soon, someone would start to wonder. The teen almost didn't notice he was mentally preparing an excuse to give his friends. It wasn't that he didn't trust them. He did, he insisted to himself.

However, Harry could deny that just about everyone he knew, who wasn't on Voldemort's side, worshiped the ground Albus Dumbledore walked on. If nothing else, the events of the last day had taught the teen one lesson. The Headmaster would do everything he could to preserve the greater good, but for Harry he was not to be trusted.

_Scene Two_

Harry refused to squirm under the penetrating blue eyes of the older man. He had done nothing wrong. Unfortunately, it seemed others disagreed.

"I am very disappointed in you my dear boy," Dumbledore said at last.

The younger wizard bit back a response about how he wasn't the Headmaster's boy. Tipping his hand at this juncture would not be a good thing. Slowly Harry counted backwards from ten. He couldn't afford to lose his temper. "Whatever for Headmaster?" he asked instead.

"You killed Richard DuMorne."

"He would have killed that girl if I hadn't," Harry defended himself. Really, the other made it sound like he had murdered DuMorne in cold blood.

"Still, everyone deserves a fair trial. DuMorne could have redeemed himself. After all," Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled as he spoke. "Everyone should have a second chance."

There were so many things wrong with that sentence Harry didn't even know where to begin. First off, since when were trials in the wizarding world fair? The so-called justice system was a joke, and a bad one at that. It wasn't like Azkaban was so secure either. If a Death Eater didn't manage to buy his freedom outright, ten to one Voldemort would break them out sooner rather than later.

"And what about all the people he has killed?" Harry said at last. "What about their second chances?" So many people would still be alive if the Wizarding World had just taken care of the Death Eaters when Voldemort fell the first time. Instead they had been content to bury their heads in the sand. Hoping if they couldn't see it than it wasn't there.

"That doesn't mean we should lower ourselves to their level," Dumbledore chided. Inwardly, he was annoyed. How dare this child contradict him. His word was law.

The teen refused to be cowed. He met the Headmaster's eyes squarely. "This is war, and in war people die."

Albus sighed, letting the matter go. Let the boy do what he wanted. Harry would learn better soon enough. "There is still the matter of you killing him." Dumbledore fixed the younger wizard with a firm gaze. "I am concerned you are walking the paths Tom tread long ago."

Green eyes flashed with anger. "I am nothing like Voldemort," he hissed. "I would never use magic for no other reason than to cause pain and death." He had killed DuMorne by banishing him down a stairway slicked with ice. The man had broken his neck. Harry was no fool. He knew he couldn't compete knowledge-wise with wizards decades his senior. But, he was creative. The littlest things could cause a great deal of damage if used properly.

For a brief moment Dumbledore looked satisfied before his expression smoothed over. So Harry hadn't been experimenting. Good, that would make him easier to deal with later. "I am sorry my dear boy," he apologized. "I had to make sure." In truth, he wasn't sorry at all. "Lemon drop?" the Headmaster offered, popping one into his mouth.

The teenager politely declined. He had never been fond of the sweets, even before he learned the older wizard laced them with a mild truth serum. It certainly explained why no one ever felt any qualms about confiding in the Headmaster.

After Harry left the room Dumbledore sighed. It had been so much easier when the boy was younger. Back then the other would have never dreamed of questioning him. The Headmaster wondered when that had changed. "No matter," he said to himself. "When Voldemort is gone then I will take care of the problem that is Harry Potter." Mind appeased, the wizard went about his daily routine, unknowing, or perhaps uncaring, of Fawke's disapproving gaze.

_EHFEHFEHFEHF_

_Hope this is okay, the next chapter will be up ASAP_

_The story is already written, I just need to type it_

_Please review; it makes me a happy author_


	2. Two Lives

_I own no one and nothing_

**Part Two**

_Scene One_

"Hey Har!" an excited shout echoed across the courtyard.

Harry turned to see one of his classmates. He got on well with the other man, even if Liam was always trying to drag him to social functions. It wasn't that the wizard didn't want to go; he was just too busy.

As Liam drew closer his smile faded. The other looked like shit. "Are you feeling alright Harry?" he asked concerned.

The wizard managed a faint grin. "I'm fine," he assured his sort-of friend. "I just didn't sleep well last night." Really, there was no other answer.

_No_, the young man imagined himself saying. _I'm not all right. In fact, for the last three years I have been living a double life with the aid of a magical artifact. My name isn't Harold Donovan, it is actually Harrison Potter, and this isn't my real appearance. Right now my double is involved in a battle against a group of psychopaths in England._ Yep, that would go over well.

His schemes had certainly expanded since that fateful day in the chamber. The wizard's seventeenth birthday had opened many doors. Before that he hadn't even known his real name wasn't Harry. No one had ever bothered to tell him, or perhaps they just assumed he already knew.

The young man's alter ego had been created mostly through what could be considered misuse of magic. It hadn't been too hard. After all, Harold only existed in the muggle world. All Harry had had to do was create the paperwork. After that a few spells was all it took to ensure the proper people entered his identity into the system. He didn't feel any guilt over his actions.

It was right there in Harry Potter's Rules for Life, the revised version. Number Nineteen; I will never regret something I did to protect myself or others. He had added that one after he killed his first man. Quirrel didn't count. That had been an accident and Voldemort had probably finished him off anyway.

Harold Donovan possessed all the documents needed to function in everyday life. An advanced glamour he had found in a banned book turned his hair a dishwater blond and his eyes an unassuming hazel. His alter ego wore no glasses. Harry had found a potion to correct his vision when he was sixteen.

Without them, and the distinctive Potter hair, it was obvious Harry had inherited much more than his Mother's eyes. It was a little depressing no one had ever noticed. Still, in the long run it benefited him.

In the wizarding world Harry did wear glasses, albeit with fake lenses, like Superman. Partially, it was so others would underestimate him. Mainly though, because the potion he had used was illegal. Only the ministry, the young man thought with disgust, would label something so useful dark just because it caused pain. It hadn't been nearly as bad as the Cruciatus Curse. Harry would do it again in a literal heartbeat.

It was true; the glamour couldn't hide his scar. For some reason, the wound seemed unaffected by all magical methods. However, there was this wonderful thing known as make-up that worked great. In some ways wizards were such fools, Harry reflected. Maybe all that inbreeding eroded their common sense.

Idly the young man wondered what would happen if he pulled a gun on a Death Eater. The pure-blood twit would probably just stare at him blankly. It was something to think about. A bullet could travel faster than a spell thrown by the best duelist in the world.

Harold was also an American citizen. He had taken the oath and everything once his alter ego had emigrated to the U.S. from England. Since attending a high school full time had not been possible when he started, Harry had gotten his GED instead. The wizard was proud of his accomplishments. He had earned his place at the university through his own merits. Here the young man was just another student, and he liked it that way.

Occasionally Harry miscalculated while using the time turner and someone would notice the absence of their _savoir. _ It didn't happen that often though, and Harry had a whole list of believable excuses prepared, just in case. Dumbledore may have suspected something, but it didn't matter. It wasn't like the Headmaster could prove anything, not unless he planned to pour Veritaserum down his former student's throat.

One of the first things Harry had done after his godfather's death was to procure a decent book on Occlumency. It was amazing what one could accomplish when they were given more advice than clear your mind. Harry wasn't arrogant enough to call himself a master, but he was competent. He was also extremely stubborn. No one was getting inside his mind unless he let them.

Harry's leash was far looser than Dumbledore realized. Definitely looser than the Headmaster would be comfortable with, and the younger wizard had no intention of enlightening him. Dumbledore probably thought his former student was using his alone time studying to kill Voldemort, and he was, just not all of it. Which made his lies all the easier to weave.

Really, Harry's main problem was money. The Headmaster kept a close eye on his accounts and would notice any large withdrawals. Fortunately, the young man had access to the corpse of an extremely large basilisk. Selling the parts off that had been extremely profitable.

Failure was not an option. No matter what anybody else thought, Harry was not a pawn. He would stop Voldemort and he would break the chains that had bound him since the day of his birth. Someday, the young man thought wistfully, but not this one.

_Scene Two_

"Really dear you should eat more," Molly clucked disapprovingly offering him a full plate. "You're far too thin." The food smelled delicious.

The young man took it, thanking Mrs. Weasley politely. A subtle wave of his wand under the table insured there weren't any extras in his food. It was a little sad really. Shouldn't he be able to trust his supposed allies? Then again, it wasn't like he was that trustworthy either. Harry regularly spied on Order meetings. He didn't have a choice. The group had a distressing tendency to keep important information from him. If he didn't know better, he would almost think they were trying to get him killed.

As he ate, Harry pretended obliviousness to the oh so subtle looks Ginny was throwing in his direction. The youngest Weasley's crush had returned with a vengeance. He had to admit she was beautiful. The redhead had grown up, filling out in all the right places. Unfortunately, that beauty was only skin deep. It was a chore to avoid her various attempts at falling into his arms. He was just waiting for the day she tried to dose him with a love potion.

A grimace flickered across Harry's features. Not only did Ginny look far to much like his Mother for him to ever be comfortable with her, she was also more interested in the boy-who-lived than just plain Harry. The young woman was chasing a fairy tale. A relationship between the two of them would never work out.

Even if he had liked her, Harry would have never encouraged the redhead's advances. Someone like him had no business getting involved with someone. All it would do would paint a target on some poor girl's back. No, he was perfectly happy being single.

"Harry," a sweet voice interrupted his thoughts. "What's wrong?" The sparkles around her eyes were a bit disturbing. There was no way they were natural.

Oops, the young man pulled his head out of the clouds, lifting one hand to rub at his scar. "It's nothing," he gave her the boy-who-lived courageous suffering look B. It was his best excuse. It wasn't like any of them would go to ask Voldemort if he had been feeling malicious at that moment.

Instantly Ginny dropped the subject, the look in her eyes becoming one of pity.

Mentally Harry patted himself on the back. It worked every time. After a moment the frown returned. Voldemort, now that was something else to be concerned about. More concerned, he corrected himself.

The dark lord had been acting a bit odd of late. An entire year had passed since his last attempt on Harry's life, not that he was complaining. It was almost like the older man was distracted. By what, Harry couldn't fathom, but it had to be big. Voldemort wouldn't set aside his aspirations for world domination aside on a whim.

Then there was the prophecy. In a moment of what Harry could only describe as rampant stupidity, Dumbledore had decided to share its contents with the Order. As a sign of trust, the Headmaster said. Within the month, Voldemort knew everything.

Surprisingly, after considering the contents, the dark lord had come to the same conclusion Harry himself had. The prophecy was bullshit. The whole thing was self-fulfilling anyway. If Trelawny had just kept her big mouth shut, Voldemort would have never gone after the Potters, and Harry would not have been marked. If given a choice in the matter, both of the prophecy's subjects would have chosen to forget the whole thing and move on with their lives.

Unfortunately, the pair didn't have a choice. They were both trapped, Harry by the expectations of the entire wizarding world and a desire to live, and Voldemort by the need to neutralize the one being who had ever escaped him. If he just let Harry go, the dark lord would lose a lot of face with his various followers.

The boy-who-lived sighed as he put down his spoon. Weren't things supposed to get easier as time went on? From Harry's perspective, they were only getting more complicated.

_EHFEHFEHFEHF_

_So here we go, Part Two is now up_

_As always, please review_

_Next part will have the introduction of Daniel Jackson from Stargate_


	3. Meeting & Thoughts

_I own no one and nothing_

_please don't sue_

**Part Three**

_Scene One_

Harry scowled to himself as he tried to balance the large stack of papers with one hand. Why one hand you ask? The other was in a sling. It had not been a good week. In fact, it hadn't been a good year.

Voldemort had evidently gotten over whatever had been on his mind, picking up his campaign with a vengeance. Oddly enough, the dark lord had modified his orders to bring the boy-who-lived to him alive, to alive and unharmed. Harry didn't know what the other intended to do with him if given the chance, and he didn't plan on finding out.

During the last battle Bellatrix had tagged him with a spell to slow magical healing. Of course, this had been after she had broken his arm. The one bright spot in the entire affair was that the insane woman had not lived long enough to gloat about it. Even that had its downside.

Neville had shaken his former classmate's hand while thanking him. Unfortunately, his reaction had been the exception. Whatever else had been said about Bellatrix, she was a powerful witch. People were beginning to look at Harry with wariness, and fear. They thought he hadn't noticed. He had.

Even his friends were starting to regard him with suspicion. He remembered a recent fight with Hermione. The bushy-haired young woman had accused him of not being himself, said she didn't know him anymore. What she hadn't said was she thought he was going dark, but it was obvious she thought it.

The green-eyed wizard snorted. As if anyone could live the life he had and come up all sunshine and roses. The savoir of the wizarding world took a moment to consider the matter. Was he a dark wizard? Probably, at least by the wizarding world's standards.

It had actually been Voldemort who said there was no light and dark magic, only power, and those too weak to seek it. Harry didn't entirely agree, but he had modified the sentiment for his own use. Power was power; it was how one used it that mattered.

Who was to say the killing curse was evil if it saved another's life. Even a simple levitation charm could kill under the right circumstances. The world wasn't nearly as black and white as most wizards thought it was. At that moment Harry was almost glad he had grown up with the Dursleys. If he hadn't he might have ended up as one of those sheep who followed Dumbledore around blindly.

Harry turned a corner, running smack dab into another person. The two hadn't collided that hard, but the impact sent a deep throb of pain up his injured arm.

The other's eyes went wide with concern as he took in Harry's condition. "I'm so sorry," the blue-eyed man apologized. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," the wizard hissed through gritted teeth. It wasn't that bad, especially when compared to some of the other injuries he had acquired over the years. He leaned over to pick up the scattered papers, only to be stopped.

"Let me get those." The collected papers were presented to their owner in short order.

"Thanks," Harry murmured. Awkwardly he offered the other his hand, trying not to drop the stack again in the process. "Harold Donovan."

"Doctor Daniel Jackson."

"Jackson," the young man repeated thoughtfully. For some reason that sounded familiar. Suddenly it hit him. "I know, you're the one who wrote that paper about the pyramids."

Daniel winced. Great, the archeologist thought to himself. There went his chance for a decent conversation. Now the other would call him a crackpot. Yes, he knew his theories about the pyramids were correct. He had stood on alien worlds, seen things others could only imagine. There was a large price on his head, err maybe that wasn't a good thing. Still, all his triumphs couldn't erase the sting of his peers' distain. He was so caught up in his thoughts; the brunette almost missed Harry's next words.

"It's an interesting idea, but I'm not sure I agree."

Daniel stared at the other a moment. The young man wasn't dismissing his work off-hand? He quickly gathered his wits. "You have an unusually open mind," he commented.

The wizard shrugged. "Not really, it is more the voice of experience." At the other's questioning look he launched into a highly edited version of the Chamber of Secrets affair. "After that I tried not to dismiss any possibilities," he concluded his tale.

A thoughtful look crossed Daniel's face. "Are you interested in archeology?"

"Sort of, I'm actually studying linguistics." It hadn't been long after Harry entered the college that he had signed up for a Spanish course. The wizard had reasoned it would be much easier to disappear if he spoke a foreign language. He had picked it up unnaturally fast.

The same had happened with French, German, and Japanese. After that Harry had changed his major and never looked back. There was no one to consult with, but the young man believed his affinity with languages came from being a parselmouth. After all, if he could talk to snakes, how hard could it be to pick up human tongues? It was likely Voldemort knew if his theory was correct, not that it mattered. He had no intention of asking him.

Daniel and Harry hit it off immediately, spending most of the day together. When they did part, it was with an exchange of email addresses and a promise to keep in touch.

_Scene Two_

A moan escaped Harry's lips as he sluggishly opened his eyes. Where was he? It took him a moment to recognize the familiar walls of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. The young man supposed it wasn't entirely unusual for people his age to wake up not knowing where they were. Still, that was usually the result of a good party and copious amounts of alcohol. Harry didn't have time to party, nor did he drink heavily. He needed all his wits about him.

It was becoming more and more difficult to keep his two lives separate in his mind as time went on. Just the other day he had almost told one of his non-magical friends his eyes were green, not hazel. Fortunately, he had caught himself in time.

As the wizard got dressed, he absently glanced at the calendar, then froze. It was July thirty-first, and he hadn't even noticed. Harry was twenty-two years old today. Funny, he felt so much older. Then again, technically he was older. His judious use of the time turner had probably brought his physical age to somewhere closer to twenty-six. Thankfully, wizarding longevity ensured no one noticed his premature aging. If they had, they blamed it on stress.

Oddly enough, that was also what Harry's friends at the university blamed the dark circles under his eyes on. Of course, from their point of view, the stress was from classes. They all thought he was insane for pushing himself the way he did. The young man loaded himself down with classes, not even taking summers off. He was just a few short terms from getting his mastery in linguistics. He wasn't sure if he was going for his doctorate just yet.

The wizard shook his head sharply, dispelling all thoughts of his life in the muggle world before transferring his gaze to a mirror. That is, a non-magical mirror. Harry refused to have anything remotely sentient where it could watch him sleep, not that he had told the Order that. He had simply removed the talking mirror along with a portrait when none of them were watching. Perhaps he was a bit paranoid, he admitted silently. But it isn't paranoia when someone really is out to get you.

Slender fingers raked through raven black hair; bringing it under a semblance of control. "Potter," he murmured to himself. "My name is Harry Potter." He ran through a few more relevant facts until he was certain he had settled into the proper identity. Then, he turned to face the day. Harry hadn't even reached the door when an all too familiar voice ghosted across his thoughts.

_Happy Birthday Harry._

The young man responded by mentally flipping Voldemort the bird. It was a petty defiance true, but it made him feel better.

Voldemort just laughed and withdrew. That didn't stop Harry from strengthening his occlumency shields though, not that it would do any good. Keeping the dark lord out of his private thoughts was one thing, stopping the other from projecting was something else. They were too closely linked to block each other out entirely.

Harry didn't even spare the older man's words a passing thought. Voldemort seemed to delight in interrupting him without warming. He wasn't certain when it had started, but somehow his relationship with his adversary was changing. Into what the young man wasn't quite sure, nor was he certain it was a good thing. Then again, what else was new? The only thing he was sure of was that the dark lord was up to something.

A deep sigh emerged from Harry's throat. Whatever had happened to the good old days when Voldemort simply wanted him dead?

_EHFEHFEHF_

_Coming next, the final battle_


	4. An Ending

_I own no one and nothing_

_From either series_

**Part Four**

_Scene One_

It came as no surprise that the final battle took place at Hogwarts. Wizards were predictable that way. Though why anyone would choose to wage war at a school was beyond Harry's comprehension. It was a testament to the young man's life that upon hearing the dark army was approaching; his first thought was a wish that Voldemort had waited a few more days. He needed to study for a midterm; it was worth thirty percent of his grade.

His eyes locked with those of his foreordained opponent. The dark lord was looking almost human nowadays, save for the red eyes. He had a nose and everything. "I will give you one last chance Harry," Voldemort stated calmly. "To join me of your own free will."

Your own free will, the younger wizard thought to himself. That didn't sound promising. He forced his unease away, hiding it behind a confident smile. "Thanks but no thanks."

The dark lord just shrugged. "As you wish my little chimera." He hadn't expected the other to agree anyway.

A grimace flickered over Harry's features at the sound of the hated nickname. Voldemort had taken to calling him that after the Headmaster had divulged to the world at large which house the boy-who-lived really belonged in. Supposedly in "the interest of promoting inter-house unity," end quote. Yeah right, all it had done was increase the number of fearful glances thrown the young man's way.

"Not little," Harry muttered a bit sulkily. Five feet six inches was a perfectly respectable height for a man. It wasn't his fault the Dursley's had starved him.

Voldemort grinned slyly. "Does that mean you are mine?"

If looks could kill the dark lord would have been incinerated on the spot. Emerald eyes became chips of green ice. "Dream on," Harry hissed. He followed up his words by conjuring a flight of silver arrows, sending them hurdling towards his opponent.

They bounced harmlessly off the other's shield. "You're going to have to do better than that Harry," he chided, and just like that the battle was joined.

Neither wizard paid any attention to the other figures aimlessly wandering around the edges of the battlefield. They knew none of them would lift a single finger, either to help or harm. They were all too willing to leave their fates in another's hands. Voldemort and Harry's full attention was on each other.

For all their similarities, the pair had vastly different fighting styles. It was true; Harry matched his opponent in terms of raw power. What he lacked was experience, about fifty years worth.

Voldemort cast spell after spell, some of which the younger man didn't even recognize. Harry's strategy was simple; don't get hit. All those years of Harry hunting had been good for something. The younger man was unnaturally fast with excellent reflexes. Which is not to say he didn't fight back.

Voldemort's boots sank into the ground as the solid earth beneath his feet turned to mud. A relatively harmless curse sent a small thundercloud to cheerfully pour over his head. In between these distractions, Harry sent the more serious spells.

Ten minutes later the pair was still going strong, though neither was unscathed. Then it happened. Harry was just a heartbeat to slow and a bright orange light slammed into his leg. The younger man went down hard, the bones fused together. Before he could recover the dark lord was upon him, deftly plucking the other's wand from slender fingers. Harry glared. He knew some wandless magic, but he wasn't all-powerful. Magic wise, this duel was over.

Voldemort took the expression as a last sign of defiance. He knelt before his fallen adversary. "It seems the game is over," he said softly.

"Yes," the younger man replied. "It is." The dark lord should have kept his distance. It was a mistake, one the younger wizard planned to take full advantage of.

Harry let a concealed knife fall into his hand, plunging it through Voldemort's heart in one smooth move. "I win," he breathed.

For a moment all Voldemort could do was stare at the blade in disbelief. Finally he smiled. "Well done Harry." Then, the body of Tom Marvolo Riddle, the most powerful dark lord of the century disintegrated.

As much as Harry wanted to relax, he couldn't. He knew it wasn't over. Green eyes narrowed, searching the smoke strewn battlefield for a familiar figure. It didn't take him long to appear. No doubt he had been watching for quite some time.

"Harry," the Headmaster greeted.

The young man inclined his head. "Headmaster. It is over," he said unnecessarily. "Voldemort is dead." There was no reason not to let the other make the first move. Besides, it was possible the other wasn't planning anything underhanded, but Harry doubted it.

"Unfortunately not," Dumbledore's wand appeared in his wrinkled hand with surprising speed. "There is still the matter of you."

Harry let his eyes widen in a look of well-faked disbelief. "Me," he repeated. "What about me?" One hand snaked unseen around his emergency portkey.

"You are too dangerous, too unstable." His wand tip took on an eerie green glow. "I am sorry my dear boy but it is for the greater good." Dumbledore took a step forward. "You will be remembered kindly. The hero who succumbed to his injuries after defeating the dark lord."

"How kind," Harry said flatly. "But I'll stick to my own plans _Judas_." A familiar pulling sensation wrapped around the young man's navel as the portkey activated, whisking him away from the scene.

A cry of pain escaped Harry's lips as he landed badly on his injured leg, but he didn't allow it to slow him. Three apparations in quick succession ensured a few minutes lead from his pursuer. Then, the wizard pulled out the time turner. "Good-bye Harry Potter," he whispered to himself. A spin of the device and he was gone, never to be seen in the wizarding world again.

_Interlude at the SGC_

"Danny, oh Danny boy," a singsong voice echoed through the corridors of the SGC. It was far too nice a day to be stuck indoors. Jack sighed to himself as he approached the room. Why oh why did his teammates have so much trouble understanding the simple concept of a vacation? Teal'c at least had an excuse; jaffa didn't get vacations.

The older man stuck his head into the other's office. "Yo spacemonkey." Jack raised a brow at the scene before stepping fully into the room. "Well this is new," he commented. "I expected to find you playing with your rocks, not on the computer."

"Artifacts," the archeologist corrected absently. "Not rocks." His gaze didn't leave the screen. It was obvious he wasn't really listening.

Now Jack was curious. What could be holding his friend's attention so completely? He gripped the back of the other's chair, sliding him out of the way to get a good look at the computer.

"Hey," Daniel objected. "I was reading that."

The colonel scanned a few lines before snorting. "Reading what?" he asked. "It looks like gibberish to me." In truth, he was just yanking the archeologist's chain. He knew full well the words on the screen weren't English.

Daniel huffed. "If you must know it's an email from a friend."

"Oh?" The colonel inquired. Jack knew full well the other didn't socialize much off base.

The brunette caught the look. "We met while I was at that seminar last year."

"On the Obeewa or something right?"

"The Ojibwa Jack," Daniel sighed. He would never understand why his teammate went out of his way to hide his intelligence. It was obvious; to him at least, that Jack was far from stupid. He returned to the original subject.

"Harry has an amazing talent with languages. You would not believe how quickly he solves the puzzles I send him." It had started out as a game, just a little something to pass the time. Now it was more like a competition. Modern, ancient, obscure, dead, it didn't matter. The younger man solved them all. Daniel had had to stop himself from sending something in Goa'uld, just to see if the other could figure it out.

Blue eyes dimmed as the archeologist lost his enthusiasm. "The only reason I haven't offered to mentor him is I don't want his reputation tainted," Daniel admitted softly.

Jack's lips formed a thin, tight line. Over the years they had known each other he had come to understand just how much the mocking of the academic community bothered his friend. If it were up to him, he would release everything to the public just so Daniel could watch those blowhards eat crow. "I'm sorry."

"Don't," the younger man cut him off. It had been his own fault. He should have known better than to present his lecture the way he had. Daniel liked to think he was a little wiser now than he was then. His eyes regained their gleam as something occurred to him. "You know," he stated casually. "Harry has just gotten his mastery in linguistics.

Immediately Jack's gaze grew suspicious. "What are you up too?"

Daniel shot the other his best innocent look. The one that said _who me, I'm harmless. _

His friend wasn't fooled for a second. He had seen far too many others taken in by that guileless gaze. "Yes you."

"Harry could be an incredible asset to the SGC," Daniel began his sales pitch. "He is talented, intelligent, open minded . . ."

"Ready to get out there and save the universe," the colonel interrupted sarcastically.

The archeologist shrugged. "He seems pretty level headed, and we'll never know unless we ask. Besides," he added. "My department is _still _understaffed." It was hard to find people to fill those positions.

A sigh escaped Jack's lips. Why had he ended up friends with someone so adept at using words to get what he wanted again? He conveniently forgot how many times that same skill had saved his skin. "I'll talk to the general," he said at last. "No promises."

Daniel's face lit up in a brilliant smile. "Thanks Jack."

_EHFEHFEHF_

_So, I'm back at school_

_Haven't decided whether I'm glad about that or not_

_Ask me in a week_


	5. A New Path

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything_

**Part Five**

_Scene One_

"Ladies and Gentleman, I present to you the class of 2003." Everyone cheered while the graduates laughed and hugged each other. They had done it. Harry felt a twinge of sadness as his classmates began to break into smaller groups, accepting congratulations from their friends and family.

Firmly the wizard pushed the feelings aside. There was no use dwelling on it. Besides, you couldn't miss what you had never had. Right? Somehow, Harry's heart didn't seem convinced.

"Harry," a familiar voice attracted the young man's attention.

Glamoured eyes lit up as they focused on the speaker. "Daniel," he said surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you of course. Congratulations."

A warm glow settled in Harry's chest and an involuntary smile spread across his face. "Thanks," the wizard murmured. He couldn't believe the other had actually come. His gaze moved past the archeologist to the trio standing behind him. "Who are your friends?" he asked.

"Oh," Daniel blushed. He had almost forgotten. "This is my team," he moved to make introductions. "That is Jack."

"Hiya," the colonel greeted.

"Sam and Murry," the pair nodded in acknowledgement. "Everyone, Harold Donovan."

Harry gave his friend a quizzical look. "And?" He prompted. There was more to this situation than met the eye the young man was sure.

"And our boss would like to offer you a job," Daniel rushed on.

The wizard stared. He opened his mouth, than shut it again. How could he put this politely? "Daniel," he said at last. "No offense, but you work under a mountain." For far too much of his life he had been trapped, unable to venture where he willed. Well no more, Harry wanted to see the world.

"Please Harry just give it a try." Daniel had known what the younger man's first response would be. They had discussed his plans before. "We travel a lot. Just come check it out," he urged. "If you don't like it you don't have to take the position."

"Uncle Sam will even pay for the ticket," Jack chimed in.

It took the wizard a moment to realize they meant the government. American expressions could be so confusing. Then he shrugged. Why not? It wasn't like he had anything better to do. If nothing else he could spend a bit more time with his friend. They rarely saw each other face to face.

A few days later Harry sat alone in his hotel room, contemplating everything he had learned. The Stargate, travel to other plants, enemies, allies, the earth in danger; it was, well not unbelievable, more like incredible. He couldn't just walk away. Not knowing what he knew now. The young man had long since acknowledged Hermione was right. He did have a saving people thing. Like so many other things in the wizard's life, it was probably Dumbledore's fault.

One ready-made savoir; Start with a homicidal dark lord, erase parents and leave on doorstep of abusive relatives. Simmer for one decade and swoop in to the rescue. He will follow you around like a lost puppy, unless of course you do something extremely stupid. Like say keeping important information from said hero that gets someone around him killed.

Oh well, at least he had managed to overcome the idea that his life was somehow less important than everyone else's. That was something for Harry to be thankful for, Martyrdom just wasn't him.

Part of the wizard wasn't too thrilled about getting involved in another war. But he knew this time would be different. For one, the men and women of the SGC wouldn't sit on their asses waiting for him to save them. Instead they would lead the charge.

A sudden laugh emerged from Harry's throat, and the wizards thought the muggles primitive and backwards. He could just imagine the look on the Headmaster's face if he ever found out what the non-magical world was really capable of. Priceless. Personally, the young man thought the Death Eaters were overly optimistic of their chances for world conquest due to their victories over unprepared, untrained muggles. Maybe two hundred years ago the wizards were superior, but not today. One bomb in the right place could destroy Diagon Ally in an instant.

Harry reached for the phone. He had made his decision. Now all he needed to do was tell Daniel. He wasn't quite sure if the universe was ready for Harry Potter but he supposed it didn't matter. One, England hadn't been ready for him either, and two, he wasn't him any longer. He was Harold Donovan, a simple linguist. Hazel eyes shone with excitement; he couldn't wait.

_Scene Two_

"Harry," one of the other linguists shouted across the crowded mess hall. "Come eat with us."

The young man looked apologetic as he gestured helpless towards the stack of papers in his hand. "Sorry," he called back. "But I have to finish this." He had been at the SGC for about six months now and didn't regret a thing. This job suited him very well.

Harry had even been assigned to one of the off world teams, SG-13. They were actually a research team. That suited him just fine though. He had seen enough blood and death to last a lifetime. Which was not to say they never saw any action. Accidents do happen after all.

The group nodded in understanding. Work was work, and for all they knew the fate of the universe could depend on whatever those papers said. Maybe the linguist could join them next time. Harry waved as he left the room.

Meanwhile, at a different table an older man frowned.

Jack caught the look. "Something wrong Brabant?"

The commander of SG-13 blinked. "It's Donovan."

Now Jack frowned. "He not working out?" That would be a pity. The colonel genuinely liked the younger man. It would be a major bummer if he had to be reassigned.

Alex Brabant shook his head. "No," he replied immediately. "He's working out great." The linguist had an impressive list of skills, including an accuracy rating that would make some of his SEAL friends green with envy. "A little too great," the other colonel admitted softly. Sighing, the man shoved his plate aside. Somehow, he had lost his appetite. "No one is that cool their first time under fire," he continued. "I am a little concerned about what he's gone through."

Harold Donovan was under his command, and thus his well being, both mental and physical, was his responsibility. The colonel had gone through the other's records, but there had been nothing to explain Harry's behavior. Parents died in a car crash, in and out of foster homes, the linguist had put himself through college with a small inheritance.

Across the table Doctor Fraiser's eyes darkened with compassion. "He hasn't had an easy life." She remembered how hesitant Donovan had been at his first physical. The brunette cared for all her patients, but Janet had to admit she was rapidly developing a soft spot for SG-13's youngest member.

Colonel Brabant looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?" He demanded.

Janet looked away. She couldn't say anything. Doctor/client confidentiality forbade it.

"She might have to remain silent," Captain Kaine put in. "But I don't." He turned to face his commanding officer. "Remember to trip to P67-3854 . . ."

Alex nodded, he did.

"Well Donovan fell in the river when the log he was standing on shifted." The captain's face twisted in memory. "He has scars Colonel, a lot of them."

Both Alex and Jack's faces went hard with fury as they thought of the young linguist. Donovan was short, slender. He also didn't like to be touched. It all added up to abuse. Sure Harry was 23, an adult by any societies standards, but to them he was just a kid.

"There is nothing we can do unless he says something," Colonel O'Neill admitted after a moment of silence. He doubted it would happen though. The other man probably preferred to leave the matter over and done with, not that that stopped the raging flames that had settled in Jack's stomach. He despised child abuse. How could anyone look at a kid and not love them immediately. He would give anything to have his son in his arms just one more time.

Grimly Brabant nodded. They couldn't change the past, but they could change the future. In the privacy of his own mind, the colonel made a vow. Donovan was one of his now, and no one would hurt the young man like that ever again. He would see to it himself.

_EHFEHFEHF_

_Another chapter done_

_I'll try to have the next up tomorrow_


	6. A Day In The Life

_Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter or Stargate_

_Note to self: Do not set self-imposed deadlines_

_You just end up missing them_

**Part Six**

_Scene One_

Harry knew something wasn't quite right the moment he entered the apartment. Of course, the non-descript man standing in the middle of his living room floor might have had something to do with that. The intruder appeared to be frozen, but the wizard knew better.

A laugh escaped the young man's throat as he examined the scene. _"Well my friends," _he asked. _"What have you caught for me?"_

The air seemed to ripple as the two chameleon vipers shimmered into view. Their coils were wrapped around the man, who blanched now that he could see what held him immobile. His desperate attempts to free himself proved futile. The snakes were far too strong. Eventually he overcame his panic, stilling once more.

It was a closely guarded secret that Harry actually liked snakes, one of many. The wizarding world would not have hesitated to crucify him for associating himself with such 'vile beings.' Keeping his silence on the matter was just common sense. Not that their opinion had stopped the young man from speaking to the serpents in private. They could be founts of useful information if approached correctly. You simply had to know how.

The parselmouth had rescued the two vipers, Tama and Kedar by name, from a potion supplier years before. They had chosen to stay with him after that. Harry hadn't minded. The pair was intelligent, adept at going unseen, and extremely venomous. They made a great security system. An appreciative grin stole over his face as he regarded his friends. The snakes had certainly grown while under his care. Kedar was almost fifteen feet long, Tama a bit shorter at fourteen. The day he could hold them both on one arm was long gone.

Tama's iridescent scales shimmered in the light as she slid around her intended victim. _"We caught him snooping," _the serpent hissed.

_"Should we kill him?" _Kedar inquired, his soft voice held a distinct edge. Both of the snakes were highly protective of their human. If not for him, they would have been killed when they were mere hatchlings.

_"Not just yet," _the wizard chided them. _"Let's find out why he is here first." _He moved to stand directly in front of the other. "Who are you?" he asked, reverting to English.

Though the man's face still held an unhealthy gray tint he remained stubbornly silent. He would not answer. It may or may not have crossed his mind that Harry wasn't human, ultimately though, that didn't matter.

A faint sigh emerged from Harry's lips. Why could nothing ever be easy? Glamoured hazel eyes locked with brown ones and he delved into the other's mind. He wasn't overly skilled with this branch of the mind magics, nor did he want to be, but it didn't take that much effort to pick thoughts out of an untrained mind. The young man looked away, "As you wish Kurt O'Bray. Keep your silence."

The intruder choked. "How do you know my name?" he gasped. Was there a leak in his cell? This assignment was not going at all to plan.

"Oh I know much more than that," Harry informed him. "You are a member of the rouge NID, your mission was to force me into revealing the SGC's secrets.

The man grew progressively paler as his intended victim spoke.

"As with most unsanctioned operations," the wizard continued. "If caught your organization will not acknowledge you were ever here." The NID had made a big mistake when they had chosen to come after him. Though Harry supposed he couldn't blame them for that. On the surface he must have looked like an easy target.

O'Bray's face hardened. Donovan was letting him see too much. "You're going to kill me, aren't you." It wasn't really a question.

A sharp smile was offered to the agent. "Wise man," he nodded to the two snakes. Harry could not afford to let the man go. An agent going AWOL would provoke far less questions than one missing a chunk of memory. Besides, at least this way the NID would likely leave him alone. If someone came looking for O'Bray, he would simply claim he hadn't seen him.

It was fast. The agent didn't even feel the viper's fangs enter him and he was dead before he hit the ground. Harry sighed as he regarded the sprawled figure. Now what was he going to do with the body? He supposed he could feed the man to Kedar and Tama, but who knew where the other had been.

_Scene Two_

"What is that?" Harry inquired curiously, examining the small animal. "Some sort of feline?" For all the concern he was showing, he might have been on an evening walk through the park.

"Less talking," Colonel Brabant snapped. "More running." He almost wished the planet had been inhabited by Goa'uld. At least they were predictable. Who knew what the natives would do to them if they caught them. The tribe had seemed friendly enough at first, until that is the chief declared the newcomers had to undergo some sort of rite of passage. When the leader of SG-13 discovered it involved sacrificing one of his men to some pagan idol he had balked, hence the running.

A casual wave of Harry's hand altered the flight of an arrow just slightly, causing it to knock off Kaine's hat instead of going through the other's forehead. The captain grimaced but didn't break stride. He could dwell on his near death experience later.

Life with SG-13 was chalk full of little incidents like this. The team had acquired quite the reputation for being unnaturally lucky, despite their designation. Rumors flew that the quartet had somehow attracted the attention of some higher being, like an ascended. Only the resident wizard truly knew the source of the strange phenomenon and he wasn't talking.

The team's geologist, Dr. Fitzpatrick, reached the gate first. He had put himself through college on a track scholarship and still trained religiously. It came in handy during situations such as this one. Quickly he dialed Earth's address. "Come one," he urged the others. "Let's go." The rest of the team wasn't far behind him. SG-13 dived through the gate, leaving the hordes of screaming natives far behind.

Harry gave a cheeky salute as he and the others walked down the gate ramp. "Hey general," he greeted. "We're back."

Hammond sighed. Really, the team was starting to be as bad as SG-1. He wondered what they had run into this time. Still, the general had to admit Donovan had proven to be a great asset to the program.

Colonel Brabant gave his linguist a once over, focusing on the other's left cheek. "You alright Donovan?" He asked. That tribesman had hit him pretty hard, and he had been almost twice Harry's size.

"I'm fine," the young man rolled his eyes. "It was nothing compared to," Harry cut himself off abruptly.

The others all shared concerned glances. Why did the linguist have to be so secretive? "SG-13 report to the infirmary," Hammond ordered firmly. "And Donovan, get that treated."

The grin dropped off the wizard's face immediately. "But," Harry tried to protest.

"Now."

Harry sulked as he followed his team out of the room. He hated hospitals, wizarding or not, they were all the same. He would have to stick around for the MRI, that was a given, but after that. Glamoured eyes grew distant as he began to plot.

Operation Vampires Are Medical Personnel, or VAMP for short, was now in effect. Mentally, he began to plot the fastest way out of the facility. Freedom here I come, he thought to himself. Harry's plans for escape were foiled when a slender hand dropped onto his shoulder.

Janet looked amused. "Going somewhere?" she inquired.

A groan escaped Harry's lips before he turned to smile charmingly at the brunette. "Now where would I be going?" It seemed he wasn't leaving after all.

That night the wizard didn't sleep well. His dreams were filled with long ago battles. Finally the young man found himself standing in the middle of an endless gray expanse, but he was not alone. Cautiously, he approached the still figure lying on a block of black marble.

Crimson eyes snapped open. "Hello Harry."

Harry awoke with a curse on his lips and a sharp pain in his scar. His eyes darted around the familiar room. A nightmare, he realized. It was just a nightmare. Shakily, one hand reached up to trace the old wound.

"You're being ridiculous," the wizard told himself. "Voldemort is dead. He's been dead for years," and he ought to know, considering he was the one to kill him. Now if Harry could only convince his subconscious that.

_EHFEHFEHFEHF_

_In this chapter I was trying to show the two sides of Harry's personality_

_On one hand, he is a war veteran with no mercy for his enemies_

_And on the other he is a loyal friend with a sense of humor not entirely unlike Jack's_


	7. Invasion

_Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one_

**Part Seven**

Part of Harry couldn't believe it. Had he mortally offended some deity in a past life or something? Five years later, a quarter of the way around the world in a muggle facility, hiding under a fake name, and they were being invaded by Death Eaters. It just wasn't fair.

The other part of the wizard turned linguist wanted to kill someone, or perhaps several someones. Especially when he spotted the distinctive figure of Lucius Malfoy. He seemed to be in excellent health. Evidently the imperius defense was still quite effective. Would the wizarding world ever learn? Somehow, Harry doubted it.

The fight had not gone well, mostly due to the element of surprise. Not only did the attack come from on Earth, as oppose to off it, the Death Eaters were an unknown. The defenders had no idea of their capabilities. Which is not to say the SGC had been taken easily. More than one masked body littered the floor.

Somehow the wizard had been separated from his team during the confusion, ending up with SG-1, minus Teal'c. The jaffa was on Chulak, visiting family. All of them had been disarmed of their conventional weapons, though the wizard was sure Jack still had at least one knife concealed somewhere on his person.

As for Harry, he could feel the comforting weight of his wand holster where it lay invisible on his forearm. Just because he had forsaken the wizarding world didn't mean he had done the same with his magic. A little paranoia could be a good thing, the young man reflected to himself. It was certainly going to help in this situation.

For whatever reason, the Death Eaters seemed intent on keeping the members of Stargate Command alive, which meant he still had time. Wait for it, Harry reminded himself. It was likely he would only have one shot at this, and he couldn't afford to blow it. The opportune moment would come. The others would help he was sure. The Death Eaters hadn't even bothered to tie them up. No doubt they thought his companions helpless without their weapons.

In the mean time, the wizard occupied himself by listening in on their captures' conversations. Apparently they were waiting for their lord. It seemed he had his own plans for the Stargate. Great, Harry thought to himself. A juiced up Death Eater with delusions of dark lordom, just what he always wanted. The young man briefly wondered where they had learned about the artifact before dismissing the thought from his mind. That wasn't important right now.

That thought was interrupted by an all too familiar burning in the young man's concealed scar, it felt like the wound was going to split right open. Then, a red-eyed figure stepped into the room. No! Harry's soul cried out in protest. Voldemort was dead. He was supposed to be dead. Still, a little voice in the back of the wizard's mind couldn't help but whisper I told you so. He must have sensed the truth on some level. He just hadn't wanted to believe it.

Glamoured eyes were firmly fixed on the floor and Harry allowed his now shoulder length hair to fall around his face, concealing it. It went against every bone in his body, but the wizard knew he had to do it. For the first time, he regretted not going further with his disguise. Really, all the spell did was change his coloring. Sad as it was, Voldemort was one of the few people who would recognize him.

The members of SG-1 noted this out of character action with some confusion. This was the man who had once told Hathor flat out her outfit made her look like a whore, and followed it up by asking what her going rate was. Just what was going on?

The dark lord's gaze swept down the row of prisoners, moving right over the disguised wizard. Unfortunately, he followed it up with a low level burst of legilimency.

Instinctively Harry batted the probe away. Way too many people had tried to trespass on his mind over the years for him to ignore such an action. Only afterwards did the wizard realize what he had done. "Shit," he muttered. It appeared the jig was up. Stealing himself, the young man raised his head, looking straight into the other's eyes.

For a moment the dark lord just stared. Then he smiled. It was not a nice expression. "Well this is a surprise," Voldemort commented, stepping closer to the younger man. "Hello old friend."

"Voldemort," Harry greeted. He was pleased with the careless tone he managed to achieve. The linguist didn't bother to resist as Voldemort disarmed him. He knew it would do no good. The situation had just gotten infinitely more dangerous.

As for the Death Eaters, they just stood around looking clueless, in spite of the fact many of them had met Harry before. The wizard shot them a disgusted look. "Ladies and gentleman, I present to you the elite of wizarding society," superior race his ass. They were idiots. It didn't take a rocket scientist to pick up on the sarcasm present in his voice.

One of the lower level minions took offense. He drew his wand. "Cru . . ." The man never finished.

Voldemort was faster. "No one," he snarled at the downed figure. "Touches him but me." The dark lord turned his attention back to Harry, reaching up to finger the man's seemingly blond hair. "Though I have to wonder what you have done to yourself," he commented. "This appearance does not suit you."

The dark lord considered the matter a moment more before casting a quick finite. He didn't appear overly surprised when nothing happened. Nothing concerning Harry Potter had ever been that easy. "I don't suppose," Voldemort stated conversationally. "You would consider telling me what you used."

"Not a chance."

"Ah well," the older wizard sighed. "If we can't do this the easy way than there is always the hard way." He would just have to take the glamour off by force. "I regret the pain this will cause you."

Harry glared. "Liar," he accused. "You'll enjoy every second of it."

A laugh emerged from Voldemort's throat at that. His little chimera really did know him far to well. With a twirl of his wand, the dark lord cast the spell.

It took every bit of the younger wizard's willpower not to scream. The pain wasn't quite as bad as the Cruciatus Curse, but it was close. However, not even the best of intentions could prevent him from dropping to his knees.

The members of SG-1 couldn't stop themselves from staring at the young man they had thought they knew. It was now blatantly obvious the linguist was hiding far more than any of them had ever suspected.

For a moment Harry just sat there, struggling to control his breathing. When he lifted his head, his eyes spat emerald fire. The glamour was gone. It was probably a good thing the Death Eaters were wearing masks. It hid the jaw dropping.

"There," Voldemort stated in satisfaction. "That is better."

Harry said nothing. There was no point in wasting his breath on threats he couldn't back up.

"Congratulations on your escape by the way," the dark lord continued. "From all accounts, Albus didn't even see it coming." In an absurd sort of way, he was proud of the younger man. Plus, it was nice seeing the other get in the way of someone else's plans for a change. "You realize they now call you the-boy-who-lived-to-defeat-you-know-who-and-went-dark. According the Daily Prophet you are hiding out in the Carpathian Mountains while you build your secret army."

Harry snorted at that. Why didn't they just call him he-whose-name-must-be-hyphenated and get it over with? As to the army part, he couldn't care less about the wizarding world. Ruling over those idiots would be way more trouble than it was worth, not to mention the paperwork.

"But I suppose I have spent enough time reminiscing," Voldemort sighed. It was time to get back to business. He sent a sharp look at his adversary. "If he moves," the dark lord instructed. "Kill the woman." There was something he needed to fetch.

If looks could kill the red-eyed man would have dropped dead on the spot. Unfortunately they can't and he didn't. It wasn't long before Voldemort returned. In his hand he held a small object. It was green and silver, slytherin colors.

Eyes the same color as the gemstones on the piece widened in outrage as he realized what it was, a collar. Before Harry could protest, the thing was around his neck. It was surprise, more than anything else which caused the young man to wince when a sharp sting shot through his neck.

"I see you discovered some of my gifts additional features," Voldemort commented. "The pain will get worse until you transform." He smirked. "I look forward to seeing what kind of creature sleeps within your soul."

"And what if I can't," Harry demanded. "What then?" The animagus transformation was not a common skill. He silently cursed himself for not apparating out when he had the chance, but he hadn't wanted to abandon his comrades. It was to late now. The wards had gone up even before Voldemort appeared.

The dark lord just laughed, amusement in those crimson orbs. "You forget. I know you Harry." There was no way the other hadn't completed the transformation, in honor of his father and godfather, if nothing else.

A grimace flickered across the younger man's features. Harry hated the fact that Voldemort was right. He could do it, not that he intended to.

"Lock them in," the dark lord ordered. He would give the other some time to think about it. Maybe in a few hours Harry would be more receptive to the idea.

_EHFEHFEHFEHF_

_Another one up_

_School is being more hectic than I expected_

_This term will definitely be interesting_


	8. The Reason Why

_Disclaimer: As always I own nothing and no one_

_You would not believe how busy school is_

_I think my teachers are conspiring against me_

**Part Eight**

"What was all that about?" Jack demanded the moment the door was closed.

Harry shrugged. He couldn't quite bring himself to meet the others' eyes. "I would think that would be obvious colonel." He had starting calling the members of

SG-1 by their first names years ago, but somehow it didn't seem appropriate at that moment. "Harold Donovan does not exist, and I've lied to you all."

"That isn't true!" It was Daniel that contradicted him. "Maybe your name isn't Harold Donovan," the older linguist spoke passionately. "But that doesn't change who you are." The look in his eyes dared anyone to disagree. Harry was his friend.

The colonel coughed lightly into his hand, breaking the tension. "As touching as this moment is, I was actually referring to the nut jobs in the robes." Donovan's secrets could wait a bit. Right now Jack had bigger problems.

Harry looked up at that. "They call themselves Death Eaters," he informed the others softly. "And their leader is Lord Voldemort. They are all wizards bent on cleansing the world from those 'impure,'" the young man sneered the last word. "Just think of Voldemort as Hitler with magic." And he was supposed to be dead, the wizard mentally added. Really, the dark lord was turning out to have as many lives as Apophis.

There was a moment of silence as the small group digested his words. Needless to say, it didn't last. "There is no such thing as magic," Sam objected. It had to be some sort of advanced technology she reasoned. They had seen energy weapons before.

Amusement shown in the now emerald green eyes and Harry transferred his gaze to the blond. "You're thinking about this the wrong way Sam," he told her. "Consider all the beings we have encountered; the Ascended, the Nox. What would you call their abilities?"

Magic wasn't as easy as snapping one's fingers and making a wish. It had its own laws, its own limits. "Think of magic as just another type of energy which certain humans are born with the ability to manipulate," the wizard said. "As with any other skill, over time these people have become more proficient in its use."

It was a neat, pat explanation, well suited to the mind of a scientist. But then, Harry hadn't exactly made it up on the spot. He had spent quite a few years considering the matter, especially since joining the SGC. Heck, for all he knew it was possible witches and wizards weren't completely human. It would be hilarious if that were true. The reactions of the pureblood fanatics would be great.

Slowly Sam nodded. The younger man's explanation made sense. There was just one thing still bothering her. "So why don't we know about them?"

Harry shrugged. "They went underground a long time ago. After that they just faded into myth and legend," just like the goa'uld had. "I'm not sure why. Maybe because people tend to fear what they don't understand." Suddenly the linguist snorted. "Then again, it is more likely they simply felt themselves better than everyone else." Merlin knows he had been exposed to that attitude more than once during his sojourn within the wizarding world.

The colonel shot the younger man a sharp look. "That is a pretty cynical view to take," he commented.

"They may be my own kind," Harry admitted. "But that doesn't mean I have a high opinion of them. It is amazing the whole society didn't collapse centuries ago." He didn't feel like he was giving up any secrets by telling them he was a wizard. Only a complete fool wouldn't have figured it out by now, and none of his companions were stupid. A grimace crossed his features as a bolt of pain shot through his body, courtesy of Voldemort's little present.

Sam's thoughtful expression morphed into one of concern. "Here," the blond said. "Let me take a look at that." She moved behind the linguist, studying the collar intently. After a moment she frowned. There was no lock, no seam. She voiced as much to the others.

The wizard's eyes darkened. "I'm not surprised," he commented. Harry didn't want to contemplate what other tricks the dark lord may have added to the device.

An exclamation of pain escaped Sam's lips and she jerked her hands back as the collar activated again. She recovered fairly quickly though. Worriedly the blond looked at the others. "We have got to get that off him."

Harry stared at her. What was the big deal? "It doesn't hurt that much," he protested, at least not yet. At her look of disbelief the linguist continued. "Then again I have always had a high pain tolerance." No doubt it had been helped along by his near constant exposure to the concept.

By the time Voldemort returned it did hurt, it hurt a lot. The dark lord sighed, looking down at Harry who was lying on the floor. "Being stubborn my little chimera?"

One raven brow quirked up, "you expected something different?" Taking a deep breath, Harry levered himself up. If he couldn't stand, he would at least sit. His pride would allow nothing else.

The wizard crossed his legs, sitting Indian style. "I don't see why you are so set on turning me into an animal anyway," he said resting his chin on one hand in an effort to look nonchalant. "Unless you are trying to make me into your pet." Teeth flashed in a sharp grin. "If that is the case I feel obligated to warn you that some pets are known to savage their owners."

Voldemort laughed at that. The other was so amusing. He would almost miss Harry's wit. "Oh I don't intend for it to be permanent," he informed the younger man. "Once I wipe your memories some de-aging potion should do the trick."

For the first time Harry showed true fear. "You can't do that." Obliviate was meant for short sequences of memory. He would end up a vegetable, or worse. His mind flashed to Lockhart. The man was probably still in St. Mungo's long-term ward.

"You're right," the dark lord agreed pleasantly. "I can't, not yet at least." He was very close to a breakthrough though, and his toy would keep Harry occupied until then. Triumph shone in those crimson orbs. "I'm certain you'll be much more tractable at say, five years of age.

Though his skin had gone very pale Harry said nothing. Really, what was there to say? It was all too easy to imagine what would happen then. After all, it had been done before, just by Dumbledore. Somehow he doubted Voldemort would make the same mistakes the Headmaster had. He was smarter than that.

There was a small part of the younger wizard who reconsidered his decision not to join the dark lord at that moment. It didn't last long. Harry quickly shoved the thought aside. Emerald eyes practically glowed with fury. "Why don't you just kill me," he spat. He wasn't afraid of death.

"_I am afraid Harry, that that is not possible." _ Voldemort knelt beside the other, running his fingers through the younger man's hair in a psuedo-soothing gesture. _"You see," _he whispered. "_So long as one of us is alive, the other cannot die." _That was how closely they were bound.

The raven-haired man just stared at him in horror. _"You, you're lying." _ He had to be.

"_Now why would I lie when the truth is so much more satisfying?" _With a final look at his young nemesis, Voldemort turned and left the room. Ultimately it didn't matter what the other thought. He had won.

The wizard probably would have just sat there in a shocked stupor indefinitely if Jack had not spoken up.

"So care to tell us what all the hissing was about?" the colonel asked. Now that had just been creepy.

Green eyes blinked. Harry hadn't even realized they hadn't been speaking English. "Voldemort and I are both parselmouths."

The group stared at him blankly. That told them absolutely nothing.

"It means we can talk to snakes," he elaborated.

Daniel's eyes lit up with interest, but before he could question his friend Jack interrupted. "So what did he say?"

"Nothing important," the wizard murmured, his gaze firmly fixed to the floor. Now that was a flat out lie and everyone knew it, but Harry couldn't bring himself to speak the truth. He needed time to think about this, alone.

_EHFEHFEHFEHF_

_Well, now you all know why Voldemort was distracted_

_Not that that helps Harry much_

_Please review and thank you to everyone who is reading this story_


	9. The Escape

_I do not own Harry Potter or Stargate_

**Part Nine**

The three members of SG-1 watched helplessly as their friend's body convulsed, rivets of sweat running down the younger man's face, plastering his raven hair to his forehead. It hurt; it hurt a lot. The pain was visible in those breathtaking emerald green orbs. A choked scream emerged from the wizard's throat. It was becoming difficult to think. Harry was quickly losing his grip on reality.

As the pain intensified, the edges of Harry's form began to blur. Then, with a soft pop the human vanished. In his place lay a large black jaguar. The cat staggered to his feet, a low growl rumbling deep within his chest. He hadn't meant to do that. His magic had just acted of its own accord.

Jack swallowed hard, fighting down the classic response of being confronted with a large predator. Only the jaguar's too intelligent eyes hinted this was anything more than just a cat. "Yo Donovan," he asked cautiously. "You still with us?" He had no idea how much of his mind the other had retained, and cursed himself for not asking earlier.

The wizard nodded, causing the group to let loose soft sighs of relief. Concentrating, Harry tried to resume his human form. It didn't work. Voldemort's doing no doubt. He snarled in frustration, great just great.

Fortunately the colonel correctly interpreted the sound. He regarded the other sympathetically. "Stuck huh?"

Obviously Harry couldn't answer verbally, but the way he started pacing about the small room hinted he was. Suddenly the cat stilled, ears flickering forward. No one needed a translator for that. Someone was coming. Sam, Jack, and Daniel quickly took up positions around the room, ready to strike. They needn't have bothered.

The moment the Death Eater opened the door 200 pounds of angry jaguar was upon him. Powerful jaws closed around the man's throat, Harry making use of the only weapons he had. His victim didn't even have time to scream.

The others followed him out of the room, Sam and Daniel turning a bit green at the sight of the gruesome wound. Jack just gave the wizard a look of approval, years of black ops having given him a cast iron stomach. Clearly Donovan was much more than just a linguist. It was a pleasant surprise to find their weapons neatly piled outside the door, but they didn't question their good fortune. The group wasted no time in arming themselves.

Making their way through the complex, the slightly odd looking group of three humans and a jaguar disabled any Death Eater they came across, permanently. Things went well at first. That didn't last long.

"For crying out loud," Jack whispered. "This is getting ridiculous." It was a given that their escape had been noticed by now. Still, how were the invaders locating them so easily? That was the second patrol they had run into in as many minutes. Fortunately the Death Eaters suffered from overconfidence. They seemed to think they didn't need the advantage of numbers, they did.

A pair of emerald eyes narrowed in suspicion. The weight of the collar was heavy against his throat. Smoothly the jaguar rose to his feet, moving in the opposite direction of SG-1. A low growl warned them off when they tried to follow. Harry was going his own way, alone.

There is an old saying about hunting jaguars. Beware, lest you become the prey. The big cats had a nasty habit of turning the tables on their pursuers. This is something the Death Eaters discovered to their great chagrin. Wizard after wizard feel beneath Harry's claws.

In a different part of the base, Voldemort's red eyes narrowed in displeasure. "Explain to me Lucius," he hissed. "Why Potter has not been recaptured." It was not a request. Harry was trapped in his animagus form, unable to do magic. In addition to that, the collar his adversary wore was littered with tracking spells. The dark lord was taking no chances. The younger man had escaped him too many times before.

The blond shifted uncomfortably. "Potter's form is quite dangerous milord and. . ." That was as far as he got.

"Crucio!" Voldemort shouted. He left Malfoy where the aristocrat had fallen, immediately dismissing the other from his mind. If he wanted something done right, he would just have to do it himself.

Harry was in the gate room when the dark lord caught up with him. The jaguar crouched low as he regarded Voldemort through narrowed green eyes. This was not good. Longingly the wizard thought of their last battle. Compared to now the odds had been greatly in his favor. The younger man thought desperately; he needed a plan. One that did not involve dying, the older man's words on that subject were still at the forefront of his mind.

"Just make this easy on yourself Harry," Voldemort advised. "Surrender." He looked perfectly relaxed as he held his wand loosely in one hand. Every so often he would shot a spell the younger man's way, all of which Harry dodged. The dark lord was in no hurry. It wasn't like the other was going anywhere.

It was then that the linguist spotted Sam, lurking in the control room. A light bulb went off over his head. It was so obvious he didn't know why he hadn't thought of it sooner. Still, he would need her help.

Harry just hoped this would work. He had never tried such a thing before, had never needed to. _'Sam,' _he called mentally. _'Sam can you hear me?'_ From the way her head jerked, it was obvious she could. Quickly the wizard conveyed his idea, and behind the two combatants, the gate began to spin.

Whoosh!! The sound of the event horizon establishing itself startled Voldemort, not as much as the jaguar that slammed into him at full speed though. The dark lord was hurled through the air stumbling right into the activated stargate, Harry throwing himself clear at the last possible second.

After that it was not difficult to regain the complex. SG-1 had already succeeded in freeing most of the other personnel, and the vast majority of the Death Eaters were dead. Lucius Malfoy was alive, but it was unlikely the blond would ever be the same. Voldemort had held him under too long. Through it all, Harry did his best to remain unseen. It was easier than one would think. People rarely look up. It is just human nature.

One person did look up. A certain colonel threw the linguist turned jaguar a sharp look as he passed. The message was clear. Harry meekly followed the older man, remaining in the shadows so as not to alarm his comrades. Plus, he didn't want to get shot.

General Hammond stared. "Colonel," he said in a fairly even voice all things considered. "You do realize there is a jaguar behind you."

Jack straightened, standing at attention. "About that sir, it's Donovan sir."

The general took a moment to translate that. The jaguar was Donovan. His lips thinned. He could feel the headache building already. "SG-1, report to the briefing room," he ordered. After a moment Hammond looked back at the large cat. "You as well."

_EHFEHFEHFEHF_

_Just one more chapter to go_

_Sorry this took so long_

_My teachers are conspiring against me_


	10. Explanations

_I own nothing and no one_

_Please don't sue_

_Sorry this took so long_

_I am thinking about setting my alarm an hour earlier _

_and having that be typing time_

**Part Ten**

While Jack filled the general in on recent events, Sam did her best to remove the collar. She wasn't having much luck. It was completely solid. Finally Daniel suggested they just cut the damn thing off.

That Voldemort hadn't bothered to make the collar unbreakable was just another example of how much he distained muggles. The device had been made to keep Harry himself in check, not the people around him. In the dark lord's mind, they were just cattle. A few minutes later the wizard was human once more. Though in some ways he really regretted it. It looked like it was time to face the music.

Under normal circumstances Hammond would have just thrown the linguist in the brig. However, this situation was far from normal, even for the SGC. Donovan had worked here for five years. He would at least give the other a chance to explain himself. Then he would decide. "So," the general began. "Care to explain yourself Mister. . ."

"Harrison," the wizard answered the unspoken question. "Harrison Potter, and it's a long story."

Jack dropped into a nearby chair, fixing the younger man with a firm stare. "We've got time."

Harry took a deep breath. "I suppose it all started when," his voice trailed off as he reconsidered the matter. "No," he corrected himself. "It started earlier than that." He wasn't going to go into Tom Riddle's childhood, but he wasn't egocentric enough to believe everything before his birth was unimportant.

"About thirty years ago," Harry began again. "The wizarding world was in the midst of a civil war. On one side was Voldemort and his Death Eaters, whom you've already met, and on the other were the so-called forces of light led by Albus Dumbledore."

Several brows rose at that. It was clear from the tone of his voice that the linguist was not overly fond of either group.

"To put it bluntly," the wizard continued his tale. "Voldemort was winning. Then, something happened. A seer made a prophecy, foretelling of the one who could be the Dark Lord's downfall."

The general's eyes narrowed. He was starting to see where this was going. "You?" he guessed.

A grim smile crossed Harry's face. "Me," he confirmed. "Anyway, somehow Voldemort got wind of it and in the manner of psychopaths everywhere decided to take care of the problem before it became one."

Jack inhaled sharply. "How old were you?" he asked. His voice was unusually somber.

"I was fifteen months old the day Voldemort murdered both my parents," Harry replied easily. He had had a long time of get over it. "He would have killed me too," the wizard admitted. "If not for a fluke. The killing curse, Avada Kedavra, has always been universally fatal. But that night, it bounced off me and hit Voldemort, reducing him to a near powerless wraith." He didn't bother to speculate as to what had happened. He had never bought that bit about his Mother's love saving him. Surly other parents had died for their children. It hadn't saved them.

"As for me," a disgusted expression crossed the young man's face. "I was immediately dubbed the boy-who-lived and declared the savoir of the wizarding world."

Daniel blinked. "You're joking!" he gasped. That was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. "You were just a baby."

The wizard shrugged. "Oh it gets worse," he told them. "You see, even though my mother was magical, her family wasn't. Albus Dumbledore," Harry snarled the name. "Took me to the home of my only surviving relatives and left me on their doorstep, in the middle of the night, with nothing but a bloody note.

The small group stared at him, unable to believe what they had just heard. What was wrong with these people? Did they have no common sense whatsoever? You don't just leave babies on doorsteps, a million things could have gone wrong.

"My aunt and uncle were at the opposite end of the spectrum as Voldemort," Harry went on. "They hated magic." He paused, pain flickering across his face as he lowered his eyes. "They hated me," the wizard whispered softly. Even after all this time, he hadn't entirely gotten over that. Really, it was amazing he hadn't grown up thinking his name was boy, that or freak.

The wizard told them all about his life with the Dursleys, his years at Hogwarts, the war, his escape. He left nothing out. It was almost a cathartic experience. Harry spoke for hours. Finally, he was finished.

Slender fingers clenched, the knuckles turning white. "I never expected my past to catch up with me like this," he admitted. "I would have died as Harold Donovan, and no one would have ever been the wiser." To be honest Harry had no idea what he was going to do. There was no back up plan. If he were really lucky maybe Hammond would let him go through the Stargate. If not there was always South America. One more jaguar in the rain forests wouldn't be noticed. He was so busy thinking, he almost didn't hear it when Hammond spoke.

"I don't see why that isn't still possible son," the general said at last. His position as head of the SGC gave him a lot of leeway, and if anyone ever deserved a break it was this young man. Besides Donovan, Potter Hammond mentally corrected himself, was one of theirs. "I do suggest you tell your team the truth though."

Harry's head snapped up so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. "What?!"

The member's of SG-1 caught on quickly. Outside this room there was no one left who truly knew what had happened between SG-13's linguist and Voldemort. "I didn't see nothing," Jack declared. Sam and Daniel were quick to second the motion.

Gratitude shown in Harry's emerald green eyes as the linguist swallowed hard. He could feel his throat closing up but he still managed to speak. "Thank you general." It seemed everything would go on as normal. Well, at least as normal as anything ever was in the life of Harry Potter.

That night, as Harry was preparing from bed, an all too familiar voice ghosted across his mind.

_'This isn't over my little chimera,' _Voldemort sent his words halfway across the galaxy with ease. _'I will make it back someday.'_

"Perhaps," the other acknowledged, speaking aloud. "But should that happen, than I will be waiting."

_This story is complete _

_Hope you liked it_

_And thanks to everyone who reviewed_

_There will be no sequel, Harry and Voldemort would_

_just end up going in never ending circles_

_On another note, I have three more complete stories to type_

_Which do you want first?_

_an IY/YYH cross featuring Kagome and Kurama_

_DNAngel featuring Dark and Krad (no slash) _

_Sequel to my Naruto fic From the Ashes_

_I can probably guess but I figured I should ask for your input_


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